A Perfect Match II — Target Practice
by Savannah Singleton
Summary: Nicole protests when her husband, Police Commissioner Frank Reagan, insists she learn how to fire a pistol. The surprise, at the end, is on Frank.


Commissioner Frank Reagan opened the door, held it open as his wife Nicole reluctantly stepped inside.

"I just don't see why I need to learn to shoot a gun, Frank. I hate guns."

"Really, Nicole? I don't even know where to begin addressing that."

"What?"

"For starters, you say you hate guns, yet you dated, and married, a man who carries one to work every day, whose sons carry one to work every day, who's in charge of 35,000 police officers who carry one to work every day. And all of the sudden you decide you hate guns?"

"I've never liked them. And whether or not you carried a gun had nothing to do with why I married you. I married you simply because I fell in love with you. I hate that you always have that gun inside your jacket. I hate that you need it. I hate that you've had to use it in the past, and might have to use it again at any moment. But I love you. One has nothing to do with the other."

"Yes, and you would have been attracted to me that first night at Sybil and Antonio's dinner party had I not been the Police Commissioner of New York City?"

"That's not even a fair question, Frank. That is just who you are. There's no separating the two. I don't know why I fell in love with you, I just did. Well, I do know, but at the moment you're making me question my judgement!"

Frank smiled as the elevator door opened and they stepped inside.

"Well, I certainly don't want to do that, Mrs. Reagan," he said as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him, leaned in and kissed her. "I would never want to do that."

"So, like you say, you carry one, Danny carries one, Jamie carries one, 35,000 New York City police officers carry one, members of my detail carry one. So, I repeat. Why do I need to learn to shoot one? Why do I need to carry one? And why all of a sudden has this come up? Is something going on that I need to know about?"

"No, Nicole, there is nothing going on. I just think it's time you learned how to handle a gun and started carrying one. Past time. I've thought about it several times before, there was just always something else going on." Frank tilted his head from side to side. "And, I was pretty sure you'd resist the idea. And, apparently, I was right. But, since you met me, you have been shot, almost abducted, and then successfully abducted, and held captive, for nearly twenty-four hours. Don't you think it might be helpful to be able to defend yourself if — when — necessary?"

When the elevator opened, two uniformed officers were waiting to get on. Both jumped to attention at the sight of the Commissioner.

"Good morning, officers," Frank said as he and Nicole stepped out. "As you were. Headed out for the day?"

"Yes, sir," they both replied as they stepped into the elevator, holding the door open as they addressed their commander.

"Have a safe one, then."

"We will, sir," they said as they allowed the elevator door to close.

Nicole smiled at Frank. "I have to say, Commissioner, I do still find it a turn on the way they all jump to attention at the sight of you. Such power! Maybe that's what attracted me to you. A man with power — always a major turn-on."

Frank pursed his lips as he studied his wife.

"Is that right? And here I always thought it was my charismatic personality and overwhelming good looks."

"Yeah, well...those didn't hurt."

As they reached the door to the indoor shooting range, Nicole's smile turned to a frown.

"Do I really have to do this, Frank?"

"No, Nicole, you don't. I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do. But it would mean a lot to me if you would."

"Well, if you put it that way, how can I say no? Let's go shoot some guns!"

As Frank was checking in at the desk, Jamie showed up, checking out.

"Hey, Dad. Nicole. What are you guys doing here?"

"Your dad seems to think I need to learn how to shoot a gun," Nicole replied.

"Absolutely!" Jamie replied. "I'm surprised he hasn't already taught you."

"Gee thanks, Jamie."

"What? You don't want to learn, Nicole?"

"Not particularly."

"Hey, you're a Reagan now. A Reagan needs to know how it handle a weapon, how to protect himself, or herself, in your case."

"If you say so," Nicole replied.

"We both say so," Frank replied. "Glad to see you getting in some practice, son."

"Hey, do I have a choice? I'm pretty sure it's required."

"That it is," Frank replied. "Still good to see you here. Off duty today?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Good. Maybe you can join us for dinner this evening, if you don't have other plans. We can grill some steaks, or something."

"Sounds good, Dad, but actually, I do have plans for the evening."

"I hope those plans involve your Ms. Janko," Nicole teased.

"They might," Jamie replied with a shy grin. "Anyway, thanks for the invitation. See you both at Sunday dinner tomorrow. Enjoy your shooting lesson, Nicole."

"See you tomorrow, son," Frank replied. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Dad. Nicole."

"Have a good evening, Jamie. Tell Eddie I said hi," Nicole said.

Once Jamie disappeared, Nicole turned to Frank.

"I just love him to pieces. Such a fine young man. You did good with that one, Frank."

"Well, I like to think I did good with all of them, with the help of their mother of course, but I agree, Jamie is special. Ready for that lesson?"

"As ready as ever."

Once in the booth, Frank secured himself and Nicole with earmuffs after showing Nicole how to load the small pistol, then laid it in front of her. Turning her to face the target ahead, he took his place behind her, wrapped his arms around her.

Picking up the pistol, he put it in her hands, showing her how to hold it.

"This might actually be fun," she said, enjoying Frank's closeness to her, his warm breath on her neck.

Frank pulled his earmuffs off.

"Really, Nicole. Come on, this is serious."

Slipping her own earmuffs off, she replied, "You know I hate serious, Frank."

"That I do. But indulge me, just this once."

He adjusted her earmuffs back on her head, then did the same with his own.

With his arms around her once again, and his hands on hers as he showed her how to aim and fire, she once again nudged up against him.

"Nicole, would you stop it!"

"Fine, Frank! If you insist! Just step back out of my way!"

She aimed the pistol at the target, like a pro, fired the shot, hitting the bullseye. Turning back to her husband, she flung off her earmuffs.

"There. How's that, Commissioner?"

Frank removed his own earmuffs.

"Something tells me you've done this before."

"Once or twice," she replied.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"So, do I pass the test, Frank?"

"With flying colors," he replied.

"Good. Now take me home, Commissioner, and make mad passionate love to me. Shooting always put me in the mood."

"If only I'd known that sooner," Frank replied. "Let's go home, Mrs. Reagan. It seems my work has only just begun."

"You consider it work to make love to me?"

"No, not at all. Bad choice of words. Pleasure would be a much better word. Extreme pleasure. You will have to tell me at some point, though, how you know how to fire a pistol, and why you didn't tell me."

"Simple answer, Frank. 9-11 happened. I felt the need to learn. It's been quite a while since I took lessons. Wasn't sure I would remember how. Guess it's like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you never forget. But I still don't like guns. But I do love you. Two things, it seems, that will never ever change.

 _The End_


End file.
